


Admissions of the heart

by TrueTattoo



Series: Baptism in blood: Asides [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Best Friends, Book cannon, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emotionally Ignorant Geralt of Rivia, Feelings Realization, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Open Relationships, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Scent Kink, Scenting, Switch Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Switch Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/pseuds/TrueTattoo
Summary: The night after Geralt and Dandelion leave the elves, and rescue the Sylvan, they are left alone by the fire, with nothing but thoughts, and each-others company.“You do not fool me, witcher.” Dandelion’s voice floated over the soft sound of his lute, and the rush of the wind. “You are brooding.”“And so, what if I am?” Geralt murmured back.“Truth be told, it is a good night for it.” Dandelion’s voice was music, and it compelled Geralt to roll over to face the fire.“And why is that?” Geralt drawled, leaning a hand on his elbow, and tracing his finger along the book he had read from earlier that night.“The wind whispers the promise of a lover’s embrace, only to be swept far away by the morn.” Dandelion was looking into the fire, his blue eyes soft and melancholy. “Death visited us upon this day, and she danced softly, and bowed, but she did not take our hands. Her embrace soft as silk, strong as the spider’s web that made it, caressed us, yet she did not take our hands. She laughed and smiled, and then turned, her skirts blanketing the sky, and we sit now feeling the echo of her passing, as we peer into the fathomless depths above.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Baptism in blood: Asides [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674565
Comments: 28
Kudos: 222





	Admissions of the heart

**Author's Note:**

> BOOK CANON, which is game canon by default.
> 
> I jumped on this damned train becuase while I appreciate the very heavy influx of Geralt/Jaskier/Dandelion from the show... The shows realtionship failed to actually show that they were extreamly close. 
> 
> In the books Geralt actually likes Dandelion, lets him ride roach, they sleep with one another and tease one another, but they love one another. 
> 
> in the words of Joey Batey: "Read the books"
> 
> So have some soft small angst and delicious smut.
> 
> This story is Canon in baptism in blood, my big fic.
> 
> ****
> 
> ******** EMBEER2004 IS MY BETA SHE IS MY LIFE AND WITHOUT HER I FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ******** 

The devil was sleeping, and Dandelion was strumming on his new lute softly, the song washing over the valley. The gale created a mourning sound that seemed to tune with the lute. The song was so melancholic and soft that it had Geralt’s mind reminiscing on what had happened earlier in the day.

They had almost died.

He had met Dandelion, a year or so ago. The bard had attached himself to Geralt, pretty much the second they met, and had not left his side since. Geralt at first thought it may be just a passing fancy. He had met several humans along the path that had traveled with him for a time, looking to him for protection, then split off from him, only to disappear and never return. Geralt tolerated their company, because, when it came down to it, the witcher was lonely. He knew he could go back to the keep, where his brothers and mentor wintered, and he would be sustained for another year, but what was the point? Three months of contact, and then nine months where he would take every spare coin he earned that didn’t go into his dismemberment fund, and pay for pleasant company?

This year had been the first he hadn’t returned to the keep. No, this bard, this strange man with flaxen curls, a little moustache and goatee, and an attitude the size of the gaudy feather that stuck from the edge of his bonnet had convinced him to stay with him. Geralt was at first mildly annoyed, as anyone gets when faced with a stranger who suddenly decides not to leave, but then, something happened. Something warm. A camaraderie formed. And Geralt allowed it to form.

The bard had taken him off guard, he had tilted his world on its end. Soon he found himself swept up, and traveling with the nimble-fingered minstrel. The tepid introduction soon turned to company, and then to pleasant company, and then to a friendship so deep that Geralt ached with it. Dandelion, he found out, was both intentionally, and unintentionally, absolutely hilarious. He was a clown, punning his way into the purses of patrons, then he was a poet, singing sweet nothings to the women who had so very little enjoyment to hope for in their lives. More than once, he had taken a woman, and turned her radiant. He fell in love carelessly, without remorse. And in his own special way, he would turn the homely into handsome, and show these women that they were worth more than the house they kept, or the children they brought into this world.

He had also witnessed women he had fallen in love with, turning into vipers, when they realized the true nature of the bard. He watched and snickered as flowerpots were thrown from windows, and knickers from out of doors. He witnessed angry husbands charging after him, but he somehow, always managed to come out on top. And he wouldn’t learn from it.

No, Dandelion loved. And Geralt found himself fascinated.

And that was the truth as to why he was currently listening to the bard’s sad song. The fascination had turned to wonder, and then a sense of rightness that Geralt had no name for. The pleasant feelings he had for the bard, earlier that day, however, had turned into a weapon. Tied and bound, all he could think about was saving the bard. He begged the elves to let him go, begged them, and then when they turned on Dandelion and broke his lute, Geralt felt a murderous rage fill him. Watching the bard’s lips tremble had broken him. Watching the whole of the bard’s livelihood splintered to pieces had enraged him.

And then the bard’s words, as his teeth chattered and the scent of fear surrounded them… telling the elves that he would be back, back to kill them should they kill Geralt and let him go.

Geralt felt himself clench up.

Someone cared enough for him that they would seek vengeance in his name.

“You do not fool me, witcher.” Dandelion’s voice floated over the soft sound of his lute, and the rush of the wind. “You are brooding.”

“And so, what if I am?” Geralt murmured back.

“Truth be told, it is a good night for it.” Dandelion’s voice was music, and it compelled Geralt to roll over to face the fire.

“And why is that?” Geralt drawled, leaning a hand on his elbow, and tracing his finger along the book he had read from earlier that night.

“The wind whispers the promise of a lover’s embrace, only to be swept far away by the morn.” Dandelion was looking into the fire, his blue eyes soft and melancholy. “Death visited us upon this day, and she danced softly, and bowed, but she did not take our hands. Her embrace soft as silk, strong as the spider’s web that made it, caressed us, yet she did not take our hands. She laughed and smiled, and then turned, her skirts blanketing the sky, and we sit now feeling the echo of her passing, as we peer into the fathomless depths above.”

“That Geralt, is why it is a good idea to brood.” Dandelion said, looking at him. “For the first time since I met you, I truly feared for my life. But that absolutely paled in comparison to the fear I felt, when you pleaded to them to let me go. I wanted to say I would run, that I would never look back, and thank the strange witcher that allowed me to accompany him. But if I had said that it would have been a lie. No, I knew, if I saw you die, if they had let me go? I would have killed them all. And that Geralt, is why I brood.”

“The idea of taking a life sits that foully with you?” Geralt sat up.

“More so the idea of losing one.” Dandelion smiled softly. “But listen to me, bellyaching in your ear. Likely to wake the sylvan up.”

Geralt looked over to the peacefully sleeping monster. His ears were still turning lightly, and his breath came out in soft snores.

“We are taking him to a group of them.” Geralt said, looking softly at the horned creature. “They are heard minded, these creatures. And this one? I fear that this one got led astray by the elves because he was alone. When they are together in a group, they can hear the wakefulness of others, and are able to sleep peacefully because of it. It’s strange, but I feel somewhat the same way. It’s difficult to sleep alone. This is probably one of the best nights of honest rest he has gotten since he met the elves.”

Dandelion’s lips pursed, and he frowned into the fire. Geralt moved over to him, dragging his blanket with him. Dandelion looked up for a moment, his expression softening as Geralt bumped his shoulder and placed the blanket over top both of them.

“It’s disheartening, you know.” Dandelion sighed, relaxing into the warmth. “Since I was a lad, I always viewed elves as a singular tragedy. Downtrodden, innocent, meek. When I saw those that captured us today, I was for a moment enraptured by their beauty, by their uniqueness. But then poison dripped from their tongues, which turned out to be just as vile as any human. They struck me, struck you, and destroyed my livelihood in a single instant. And all I could think about was why? Why when such cruelty had been visited upon them, did they feel like they needed to continue it? The more I travel with you, the more I realize that my own ideas of the world are but a scratching on the surface of the complicated and twisted way life carves through the sands of time. It makes me sad, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded softly, gazing into the fire.

“Why do you keep following me, Dandelion?” Geralt asked after a time of silence.

“So, you were brooding about me?” Dandelion’s eyes looked to Geralt’s, and Geralt had to look away.

Dandelion shifted.

“At first, it was wholly selfish.” Dandelion mused, and Geralt could hear the smile on his lips. “You have seen the amount of trouble I get myself into. So, I thought, you saved me with such aplomb from those wretched brothers, that maybe just maybe, you would save me again. Then, I began a study of you. I watched you, watched how you walked, talked, ate. And I realized, I had a mystery on my hands. People say strange things about witchers, and I wanted to know if they were true. So, I watched, I studied, and I pried. Soon I learned of your dry gallows’ humor. I saw the way your eyes would light up when you saw something that interested you. I saw the tension in your bones, when you needed to move on from a place, to continue onwards, driven by an instinct more than a want to move.”

“And then something happened to me.” Dandelion sighed, and Geralt took a glance over to the man. His cheeks were colored, his eyes were glassy. “You see, the more I learned of you, the less I wanted to be away from you. When you handed me a dagger and let me follow you on your hunts, you didn’t look at me like a burden. You didn’t tell me to stay behind and wait. No. You knew I wanted to see everything, to take in everything I could. You didn’t treat me like a weakling, like a failure. And so many times over the years I had been treated as such, from my father, who declared me a fop. To my professors at Oxenfurt, who didn’t understand why I didn’t want to stay at the school permanently to lecture, and entertain. You instead, shrugged, informed me that it was my funeral, and then let me tag along.”

“You are a man; you can make your own decisions.” Geralt mumbled.

“That is exactly my point!” Dandelion cried, setting his new lute down. “You let me make the decision. You didn’t force me to stay, you didn’t force me to leave. In those first few weeks, I am nearly sure you just tolerated me, but then, even you changed. You seek my company, Geralt, oh don’t make that face, I know you do. If I am singing and you find me in the tavern, you always seek my eyes first, before another’s. If we part ways in a town, it is always you that finds me to drag me back to safety. If we venture to a house of ill repute and you finish first, you always wait for me.”

“And you for me.” Geralt smiled.

“And that’s just it!” Dandelion sounded frustrated now. “I do! And I did! And I want to do it! I want to wait for you, I want to find you. I want to see your smug look as you saunter out of the room with your hips loose, and your golden eyes wide with satisfaction. I want to, and…”

Dandelion’s voice trailed off.

Geralt could feel Dandelion shift, his shoulders tensing. He looked down to the bard and his fingers were balled into fists on his thighs. Geralt wanted to soothe the pain he was feeling.

“Today is the first day I realized that I had someone, someone that would die for me.” Geralt said softly, his voice a rolling whisper. “I have a person who will mourn for me, who will miss me if I move on from this world. When I saw your stricken face when they smashed your lute, something burned inside me. I would have killed every single one of them. I would have killed them, because they caused you pain. And I knew in a single moment, that I would do it again. Over and over. I would die a thousand times over to not see your face as pained as it was.”

Dandelion made a soft noise, and Geralt knew he was looking at him. He couldn’t face the bard right now. If he did, his heart would freeze, and the trickling something that was beginning to make itself known, would be diverted.

“And that, bard, is why I was brooding.” Geralt said, his own voice coming out pained and strange in his ears. “I have this feeling inside me, it’s so large, it has me fearful. When I look at you, when I see you smile? It chokes me. When you are hurt, it gets angry. It makes me want to do absolutely ridiculous things, that I have no reason for. I bring you along on my hunts, so I can see that look of wonder I your eyes when I come out on top. I hunt for you, perform for you. I have taken more contracts since I have known you then I have taken in the past twenty years. I watch you, and I listen to you, your music, I may tease you about it, but it is beautiful… and…”

A soft touch startled Geralt, and he looked down to his own hands, which were clenched as the bard’s were moments before. The bard’s fingers hovered over his hands lightly, before finally settling, the weight of them, the heat of them, racing through Geralt like lightning. He looked down to the bard’s eyes.

“Geralt…” The bard’s face was momentarily obscured by the wind rushing through his hair. Geralt lifted his hand and attempted to brush Dandelion’s hair out of his eyes. He failed, and Dandelion laughed, blushing as he tucked a curl into the others.

“I…” Geralt hesitated. And then he realized he was still holding his hand up. Dandelion was looking at him, his eyes clear and blue, and catching the fire and moonlight, and it was all Geralt could see. He reached forward, and cupped his hand to Dandelion’s cheek, and Dandelion jolted, surprised.

“Your fingers!” His voice was breathless, and Geralt attempted to move his hand away. Dandelion caught his arm, and then leaned his head against Geralt’s open palm. Geralt’s heart clenched, and a roaring feeling of pain, struck through him.

“Why, why does it hurt?” Geralt asked, his voice coming out as a choked Whisper. “It always hurts, it hurts so much. What is this, it is making my heart race, by skin tingle. My neck, my stomach, my…”

“Does it feel like someone has taken you from the inside, and is tracing fire along your innards?” Dandelion spoke, and Geralt could feel his jaw moving against his hand. He nodded.

“Does it seem like the whole world is pressing in on you?” Dandelion spoke softly, his fingers trailing down Geralt’s arm. “The whole world is pressing in on you, and you are forming diamonds in your chest, and if you don’t let them out, they will turn jagged and black?”

Geralt nodded, his own voice wanting to say something, anything, but instead all that came out was a pained whimper.

“Have you ever felt it before?”

The question caught Geralt off guard. Pain shot through him, and he withdrew his hand, and his chest tightened, and his eyes burned. The concern in Dandelion’s eyes made him turn away, and shame raced through him, shame, and fear, and confusion.

“You have.” Dandelions’ own voice was pained. “You have, and you lost it.”

“Long time ago.” Geralt choked out, his head warring with his body. “We… they run the emotions from us. Make us not… feel.”

He heard Dandelion shuffle, then a soft hand on his cheek, forced him to look back at the bard. Geralt gave off another pained sound, as Dandelion stroked his cheek with a thumb, softly, surely. It was tender, soft, and Geralt was confused, confused and hurting.

“Oh, Geralt, you feel.” Dandelion said in a whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You feel, you feel so keenly, but you do not know what it is that you feel, because no one explained it to you.”

“And what is it that I feel, Dandelion?” Geralt bit out, harsher than he intended. A second hand cupped his cheek, and Dandelion leaned forward, his smell enveloping Geralt.

“You feel love, Geralt.” Everything in the world ceased to exist when Dandelion leaned forward, and pressed his lips softly to Geralt’s. His body was frozen, and his heart began to beat quickly. Dandelion pulled away licking his lips, and Geralt saw it in his eyes, smelled it from his scent. He smelled of unwashed body, dirt, blood, and so many things, but above all else, he could smell Dandelion’s want. He leaned forward, shuttering his eyes, and curling his lips. The scent was intoxicating, and he was feeling lightheaded. The pain struck through him again, and he winced.

“Why, why does it hurt?” Geralt asked, wanting the pain to go away.

“When we feel something intensely that our bodies are not used to, it tries to balance the feeling out by releasing the opposite response.” Dandelion’s voice was a hoarse whisper, and his pupils dilated. “There is only one way to cure it.”

“Please… Dandelion…” Geralt was moving towards him, as Dandelion did the same. This time their lips met together, Dandelion’s were soft, full and youthful. Geralt’s were rough, chapped, and in one spot, scarred. His world centered down to the feeling, to the smell, to Dandelion’s breath ghosting across his face.

The bard’s mouth opened, and Geralt pressed in, wanting more, wanting everything. The first taste of him would be burned into his memory, the taste of the rabbit they had eaten, the sour wine Dandelion had watered down, and above all, he tasted nothing like anything Geralt had ever experienced. He tentatively tasted Dandelion’s tongue, and then Dandelion pressed forward, claiming his mouth in a way that had Geralt shaking, making a small noise of want. He reached out tangling his hands in the blond curls, and Dandelion hummed against him, his body arching, and their chests coming into contact. They were both breathless, making soft noises, and Dandelion’s hands never left Geralt’s face, instead they coaxed him, guided him. When they pulled away, Geralt was scowling, confused, aching. Then something old and primal wormed its way through him. Something dark that had been biting at his heels for as long as he could remember.

Dandelion immediately took notice, and pulled Geralt’s hands into his.

“You are afraid.” Dandelion stated a soft smile filtering through his face, making him look, so, so very young. “Here I have waited at every turn to watch you fear something, and then triumph over it, and I had lost hope. But…”

He took Geralt’s hand and nuzzled it softly. Geralt wanted to run, he wanted to bury himself in Dandelion’s curls. The pain was racing into a physical buzz in his ears, in his muscles.

“But now I do not want it.” Dandelion said, closing his eyes. “Because it is aimed at me.”

“It’s not you!” Geralt blurted, his whole world refusing to sit still, his leg twitching. “It’s not you, Dandelion.”

“Tell me then, we have been traveling together for a while now, and you are always so terse and stoic.” Dandelion smiled again. “I am not going anywhere, Geralt. Not now.”

“How old do you think I am?” Geralt asked, looking at the bard, and watching as Dandelion’s head tilted just slightly.

“A strange way to start this conversation, but I’ll bite.” Geralt felt some of the tension ease as Dandelion shifted again so he could lean against Geralt’s side. “You look like a man in your early thirties, if that. But you carry yourself with so much more weight. You are a witcher, from the Wolf School. Witchers nearly disappeared from the continent, about, oh, thirty years ago? Maybe forty? The pogrom against them thinned their numbers, and from the way you are wincing just now, I would say you were alive during that, and possibly active. Knowing that no new witchers have appeared, I would say you are somewhere in your sixties? Maybe seventies?”

Geralt nodded, having never really known when he was born.

“And judging from that question, I should ask the obvious follow-up.” Dandelion leaned against him again, taking his hand in his. “How many lovers have you had? Not just flings, not whores that grew attached. Not passing fancies by yourself that turned out to be nothing, but actual lovers?”

“One…” Geralt wrenched his eyes shut.

“One?!” Dandelion’s hand tightened on Geralt’s. “How… I mean. I am prying, but damnit it’s my job to pry. What happened? Why only one?”

“We grew up together.” Geralt said, his body shaking, his mind telling him to button up, to not give anything away. But his heart, it was hurting terribly, and he needed to understand why.

“Did he…” Dandelion made a motion with his free hand.

“No he isn’t dead.” Geralt murmured. “But…”

His heart clenched, and his eyes burned.

“Geralt, you can tell me.” Dandelion said softly. “I promise, no matter what, I will not write about this. Not something so gravely important. But… I need to know.”

“We were lovers from boys.” Geralt said, his mouth moving and spilling the words, even as his mind rebelled and thrashed against him. “We did everything together. We ate together, trained together, and as we faced the trials together, we became close. He was, he was my opposite. Focused, commanding. I was a little hellion, brash, with delusions of grandeur. He was my balance. He was my… He was my heart.”

“Oh, I dread asking this, but what happened?” Dandelion asked, a waver in his voice.

“Everything was great.” Geralt said, slipping into memories. “We traveled the path together, laughed together, shared everything. Dreams, beds, women, the occasional man. It was good, and we understood each other. He could soothe me when I got too worked up. He would pull me out of dark places when I was feeling badly about something. And I provided the same for him, till… till the pogrom.”

Dandelion was looking at him, silently, and imploringly. His thumb had begun to trace circles on the back of Geralt’s hand, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“When the pogrom happened, I snapped.” Geralt’s shoulders hunched, his breathing came in shallow gasps. “Not just, snapped, but I went on a rampage. I killed so many people. Guilty people, people that deserved to die. But I didn’t know what I was doing, and I was so lost in the feel of the blood and the loss of their lives that I didn’t know what I was doing. He found me, and… He didn’t like what he saw. He calmed me down one last time, and then drugged me, because he had to get me back to the keep.”

“When I came to, I decided I didn’t want him to know that I remembered every second of what I did.” Geralt’s voice was thick now, and his tongue heavy. “They let me recover, and we had to drag all the bodies to the moat. We overwintered there, with more food then we ever had in our lives, because the mouths it was meant for were dead. Guilt ate at us all, and I thought for a time, that guilt was what was keeping him away from me.”

Dandelion’s hand had stopped moving, and Geralt could feel the tension in the man’s grip. When he looked at his face, something hitched, and his vision became blurry.

“I tried, tried to call him back to me, like before.” Geralt’s breath huffed out, the last of his stoic mask broken. “I tried, I touched him, we couldn’t emote at the keep, so we had our own way of doing things, I touched him, brushed into him, lowered my head to him, and he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Vesemir, he got angry with him, and then I was angry. I was angry because I didn’t know what I had done wrong. I was hurting, like I am now, the fear that I feel is here now. And I lashed out at him, pinned him. I demanded an answer, and I got something I would have never wanted. The moment I pinned him against the wall, and scented him, I knew. He feared me.”

“He was a-afraid of me, and he didn’t want me anymore.” Geralt’s voice broke. “He left me at the keep, left before spring had fallen, and I left too, broken, lost and alone. He was my everything! He was everything that was good in this world. He was my reason for existence. I first I thought that he needed distance, so I traveled. For three years I traveled. I traveled down to Zanbibar, through Nilfgaard when it was just a small dog barking for scraps. I saw the world for the first time alone. And it was a dark place, filled with moments of starlight that were so few and far between it embittered me. The longer I stayed away, the more I thought of him. Thought of home, till it was all I could focus on, and I had to return.”

“I hoped that… I hoped that things would have cooled down. But they didn’t and that made it worse.” Geralt looked to Dandelion. “I have been in a haze for nearly forty years, longer, perhaps. Kill monster, get paid. Kill monster, get kicked. Try to help someone, find out they are shit, kill them, then get stoned for it. My life has been one misery after another, punctuated by a hope that has slowly died. When I first started out, I reveled in the attention I was given. Laughed at the rumors of witcher stamina, and offered to prove it. It took me so long to learn that no one wanted me, that they wanted a notch on their belt. And so, I wandered, paying for a whore when the need got too great, or making my way back to the keep, where one of my other brothers or a visitor would keep me company for the winter.”

“But I was dead, I had lost hope.”

Geralt stopped, and then turned his palm in Dandelion’s grip.

“And then you appeared.” Geralt breathed. “And I thought ‘oh boy here we go again’. So, I hid myself from you. Tried to keep myself distant. But then, something began to nag at me. I found myself talking to you, listening to your music, watching you play at the taverns so we could have a room and a bath. You seemed so fragile at first, but I watched you, learned you, and learned how you worked, and I was fascinated. And from that fascination, something grew. Friendship. Not a frivolous one-sided thing, which many of my friendships have been. But a true friendship. You would coddle me, which I have never been coddled in my life. You would worry for me. I thought it was endearing, but then I began to worry for you.”

“Something changed, and though we separated, we always found one another, and I’ll be the first to admit, I looked for you.”

“I did as well.” Dandelion’s cheeks were flushed now, and his eyes were looking at Geralt far more keenly than Geralt wanted him to.

“And then, I watched, as you fell… fell in love.” Geralt tasted the word on his lips, and it felt foreign, unused. “And you would. You said you did, and many scoffed. But you would find someone, always someone who needed something, and you would fall in love with them. I could smell it. I could smell it on you, even as you ran ducking from whomever you had made angry with your tryst. And then I would smell the disappointment, the heartbreak, the sour scent of rejection. And it made me angry!”

“Were you jealous?” Dandelion leaned back a little, his brows furrowing. Geralt pulled a face.

“No.” He snorted, looking into the flames. “Jealousy is something I am not familiar with, not in the idea of someone with someone else anyway. I was angry, because these people led you on. You knew it, but you fell in love anyway, you always gave them a piece of your heart, and I thought one day I would find you a broken man. But you didn’t. You never broke. You pulled up your hose, straightened your cap, and waxed poetic about how many fish there were in the ocean, and you and your heart would go out to seek another.”

Dandelion’s eyes were wide now, his brows creased with confusion.

“I would watch you go, and come back. And go, and come back. Always to me.” Geralt said, shaking his head. “And I would want you to go, to experience it, so I could… so I could experience it. No one ever loved me, and so I would watch you love, and I would wait, wait for you to come back, waxing poetic about those you loved and lost. Somewhere in the midst of all that, something inside me was beginning to pain me. I would watch you be rejected, and my own heart would tear at itself, watching that pain you suffered. You deserve more, deserved better, the best. And I realized, that, maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be the one to give it to you.”

Dandelion’s jaw dropped. And a small pained noise squeaked from his throat.

“I could smell it on you, constantly. You would come to me, tell me of your woes, and then your scent would envelop me. Arousal, want, need. Such a wonderful smell.” Geralt winced. “But, I waited, and perhaps I had been foolish, because I waited for the cues I was used to. A brush of touch, a knowing look. But you are human! I have no idea how to read that sort of thing in humanity! So, I settled myself in, knowing that just by being there, listening to your stories, and smelling you as you slept, that I could be sustained.”

“Geralt, I… I thought…”

“It changed, when we were captured.” Geralt looked at him, and gripped his hand tight. “When I saw you, when they broke your lute, that same feeling that rushed through me when I found the children of the keep murdered, rushed through me again. But I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t… I couldn’t. And then, when I was ready to take the knife that was held at my throat, and you said you would kill them all if I died, the last puzzle piece snapped into place.”

“You love me.” Dandelion said, his eyes wide, and his cheeks flushed.

“I think…” Geralt hesitated, rubbing his chest where his medallion sat flush against it, trying to will the pain away. “I think... I think I do.”

“Then I have a confession.” Dandelion said softly, reaching up and stroking Geralt’s stubbly cheek. “I have been in love with you since the second time we met.”

“The second time?” Geralt laughed, and Dandelion’s smile was brighter than the brightest stars.

“Technically it was the first time.” Dandelion said coyly. “But I needed a moment, to gather myself, and make sure it just wasn’t an overactive bout of thankfulness.”

Geralt hummed as Dandelion patted his cheek and pulled away.

“But Geralt, why did you not tell me before now?” Dandelion asked, his tone almost hurt. “I thought, I thought that you just were content.”

“I like, _you_ , Dandelion.” Geralt growled, turning towards the bard and flashing his teeth. “I like you, exactly the way you are, and I don’t want you… I don’t want you to change. I don’t want us to change. I want to watch you, I want to watch you fall in love with others, knowing that you’ll come back to me. Always to me. I love you; I love who you are, how free you are. I don’t want to chain you, and if I had spoken these words sooner, you would have chained yourself to me, because I didn’t understand what it was I wanted.”

“You truly hold no jealousy over my dalliances?” Dandelion was shocked.

“No! Because… it’s… it’s what I want more than anything.” Geralt said, the admission freeing something inside him. “My heart has been be-fouled, like the rest of me. But it sees you, and what you do, and who you are, and it wants to heal, I think.”

“You think?” Dandelion raised a brow.

“I… I can’t help it, sometimes.” Geralt said bitterly. “When I was with…. When I was with Eskel, we were witchers. We knew each other, inside and out. Our drive is so high, our need to fuck, to feel, to release. We never had jealousy, not between us. And I don’t want that. Jealousy has started so many wars, so many fights. I want you to love, I want you to find pleasure in others. But I also… I…”

Geralt closed down, his body hardening, his eyes squinting shut.

“But you also fear that if you stray from me, if you find someone to enjoy yourself with, be it for coin, or for a passing fancy, that I would resent you.” Dandelion’s voice was soft. “Well, let us make this clear.”

Geralt’s eyes shot open, and he looked at the bard, whose face was drawn and serious.

“I hesitated with you, for the very same reason.” He said, and Geralt felt his stomach drop out. “I feared, that one day, I would find myself ensconced in a lady or a man, enjoying myself, only to have you walk in, and have to watch, as your heart broke, and I was the cause of it. I couldn’t bear the thought of doing that to you, not after watching how you softened during a love song, how you would listen to my every word, when I told a tale of scorned lovers. I too fell in love, but it wasn’t just love, it was friendship, comradery. You have given me a chance that no other bard in the history of the continent has gotten. You have allowed me to travel with you, chronical our adventures. I fall in love easily, because I vowed, when my own mother refused to love me, when my father couldn’t deal with my anxious moods, and quick wit, that the second I was able to, I would pour love into anyone that needed it.”

He shuffled and stroked Geralt’s cheek.

“And you, Geralt? You need it, so much more than everyone else.” Dandelion cooed, and Geralt whimpered. “I see it, now more so than ever. You yearn for touch like a man dying of thirst. Not just sex, which by all accounts, all men want always, but you want touch, intimacy. You’re confused because you were never taught to verbalize it, you were never taught what feelings mean. How they feel. You have names for them, surely. And some you have stumbled into on your own. But you are… you are so naive when it comes to this, and it breaks my heart that someone would have discarded you simply because you felt anger, and lashed out to justly destroy those that killed your family.”

“I.. I can’t… It hurts, Dandelion.” Geralt said, holding back a sob. “Please, if we do this, even if it doesn’t last, I cannot lose you. I cannot lose your friendship. I fear, I will drive you away. I fear you will see me, who I truly am, how broken I am, and it will become too much.”

“Geralt, I promise this, here and now.” Dandelion‘s voice was low and serious. “No matter what, no matter what happens, there will never not be a spot in my life for you. I may fall in love with others, and if you fall out of love with me, I assure you, you will not drive me away. And should the same befall me? I will not drive you away. Love changes with time. But my love for you, even changed, will never wane.”

Dandelion was pressing forward again, and Geralt felt his heart thudding in his chest like thunder.

“No matter what circumstances bring us, I will always love you, Geralt. Always.” Geralt finally broke.

The surge forward felt like molasses, but the kiss at the end was so sweet it made Geralt’s teeth hurt. Geralt began to touch Dandelion, feeling his soft lines through the doublet that was unbuttoned. Their tongues danced together, and Geralt could have cried. He was crying. He could taste the tears on his lips, as Dandelion pulled away, his lips pink and swollen, and his face and neck flushed red with wanting.

Geralt moved first, tossing his shirt off, and Dandelion took the cue to do the same, grumbling at the buttons that held his fingers at bay for far too long. Geralt had already stripped himself of his pants and braies while Dandelion was fighting with his clothing, and the bard gasped, as Geralt, on all fours, stalked over and grabbed the knots of his codpiece, and untied them, while Dandelion finally tossed off his hat and struggled his doublet off his shoulders.

When Geralt finally got the knots free, Dandelion batted him away, and Geralt leaned up on his knees, watching as Dandelion began to shimmy out of his pants. Geralt saw the root of his cock exposed, and he groaned, his hand finding his own cock, and starting to stroke it with a slow languid movement. Dandelion spotted the movement, and went still.

“Holy…” He said and shook his head. “I mean, I have seen it before… but always in a different context.”

“What? When we hit a cold stream and my balls attempt to crawl up my arse to hibernate for the winter?” Geralt asked, looking down at his cock.

Dandelion laughed then, and loudly. Geralt raised a brow and Dandelion snapped his hand over his mouth to silence the giggles.

“You are… magnificent.” Dandelion said, just taking a moment to look at him. Geralt felt telltale heat on his ears, and a small amount of it filtering through his cheeks. He was allowing his body its natural reaction, and he felt himself pulse beneath his fingers.

“Your clothes.” Geralt growled, but it was without malice. Dandelion scrambled to remove his pants, and his braies, and finally, Geralt could look at him.

“Should we move?” Dandelion asked, sitting up, and looking to the sleeping creature beside the fire.

“He is dead asleep, so long as you don’t sing too loudly he will not wake.” Geralt said, and Dandelion turned to him.

Geralt finally got an unobstructed view of the man, and he purred lowly in approval. Dandelion’s cock had been cut, as was the fashion in Redanian families suffering under the new cult of the Eternal Fire. But it was long, thick. Geralt could suddenly see why so many women wanted to bed him and sang his praises. His cock bobbed freely, and when he shifted, it lifted, and neatly slotted itself into the bard’s navel.

Geralt moved, and hesitated.

“You can touch me… Please…” Dandelion hissed. Geralt ignored his cock at once, and captured Dandelion in a kiss. This time, when Dandelion pressed into him, Geralt ran his hands along the sweet, exposed skin. He licked into Dandelion’s mouth, sucked on his lips, and then buried his face in Dandelion’s neck, and inhaled.

Dandelion sighed, his neck arching, as Geralt breathed in deeply. Arousal, pure, untainted. Love, calm. And Dandelion. The man’s scent was spicy, musky. Everything that a man’s scent should be. He licked at Dandelion’s neck, and Dandelion grabbed his hair, his whole body arching as Geralt worried the skin with his teeth and sucked softly, tasting it. Geralt felt Dandelion’s cock brush against his stomach, and he could smell the precum that was beginning to leak off the tip.

He wanted to taste him, he wanted to eat him all up, but he also wanted something else. Something he hadn’t had in a very very along time. The spot deep in his belly, below his bladder, gave a pulse, and Geralt groaned as Dandelion wrapped a hand around him.

“Oh Geralt… I have wanted this for so long.” Dandelion drew himself to Geralt’s lips once again, stroking the skin, and allowing Geralt’s foreskin to ease his hand.

Geralt rolled his hips with Dandelion’s movements, and chased his mouth with his tongue. When he Dandelion moved to pull away, Geralt grabbed him by the hips, and took him backwards with him. Dandelion was surprised only momentarily before he got back to work, stroking Geralt, and kissing his jaw. He began to pepper kisses on his cheeks, his forehead and his hair. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing Geralt’s ear.

“How do you want this?” It was only a small gust of air, but Geralt’s back arched, his legs widening, and Dandelion ran his tongue around the witcher’s earlobe.

“Please! Oh… oh!” Geralt was lost in that instant, the hot breath coming out in puffs, the small tug of teeth, and a wandering tongue, and he was instantly keening with want.

“I never imagined even in my wildest dreams you would sound like this.” Dandelion huffed against his ear, and Geralt thrashed, his cock releasing a string of precum against Dandelion’s hand that could have been mistaken for the final act. His nerves were alight, and his chest was still aching.

“Please… please!” Geralt begged. “I need you, please… I need you inside me…”

Dandelion withdrew, surprise evident on his face, and then a blush fiercer than all the last covered him from his chest, to the tips of his ears. He didn’t waste any time, or any words at his surprise, just reached to a bottle of oil Geralt had placed beside the bed. Simple mineral oil, it would do. Dandelion opened it with shaking fingers, and oiled his cock. Then he looked at Geralt, who had widened his legs, and arched his back so that the most vulnerable spot of him was open for Dandelion to see.

“Holy…” Dandelion grunted, placing more oil in his fingers. He started by massaging the perineum, teasing the spot within Geralt, that he wanted more than anything. He whined, and arched, and Dandelion took the hint, and ran his fingers lower, around Geralt’s hole.

“Get… Get on with it!” Geralt snarled, as Dandelion rubbed circles around him.

“I am nothing if not a thorough lover, Geralt.” Dandelion snorted in mock affront. “You haven’t tasted this for so long, I aim to let you savor it, the softness. The feel of it.”

He inserted a finger, and Geralt jerked against his hand. It was rough, not enough oil, but it felt so good that Geralt couldn’t help rocking back into it. He withdrew his finger, placed more oil in his palm, and then inserted again, this time the slide was perfect, and Geralt rolled his hips. He reached up and began to slowly stroke his own cock, as Dandelion worked at him with the single digit, and Dandelion smiled.

“Yes… that’s it.” He cooed, sliding another finger alongside the first. “Stroke yourself, make yourself feel good while I make sure you can take me.”

Geralt arched his back, his muscles twitching as Dandelion began to massage him from the inside, his deft fingers playing at him. When they finally brushed over his prostate, another large gush of precum leaked against Geralt’s belly as the larger man writhed.

“Oh… so you… so you really like this!” Dandelion’s happiness was evident, and he began to massage inside him with his talented fingers. “I was under the impression that I would be receiving, but this…” He twisted his fingers and Geralt abandoned his cock, and bit into his finger to stifle a scream. “This is such an unexpected pleasure.”

“Get on with it!” Geralt mumbled against his finger. “Please… Otherwise… I…”

“And who says that is not the point of this.” Dandelion purred, then inserted a third finger. He ginned, and Geralt’s eyes rolled, as pleasure rocketed through him. It had been so long, and he had wanted this so badly. All he could feel was the press, the stroke of Dandelion’s fingers, working him, massaging him.

When the fourth finger entered Geralt’s legs kicked out, and his body arched off of the ground. He groaned against his hand, his eyes watering as his orgasm hit him. Dandelion smiled, and continued his pace, and the orgasm was long, rolling and delicious.

“Now, I think you are ready.” Dandelion purred. Geralt was about to protest when Dandelion shifted himself, and pressed his head against his fingers at Geralt’s hole. There was a soft pop, and then, Dandelion groaned, as he pushed into Geralt. Geralt was shaking, still over sensitized, but when Dandelion began to slide in and out of him slowly, each stroke going deeper than the last, Geralt felt pleasure come roaring back over the sensitized pain.

“That’s it, Geralt, you are so beautiful….” Geralt’s eyes shot open, as Dandelion sheathed himself fully and stilled. He was a vision himself, his eyes closed, one hand on Geralt’s hip, the other on his knee. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at Geralt, softly.

“I want to see you; I want to see you as you cum this time.” Dandelion said. “Look at me, and start stroking your cock. Move with me…”

Geralt grabbed himself, and Dandelion began to move, his hips rolling softly, unhurried. The pace was torturous, and beautiful. And Dandelion never broke eye contact. He leaned down, and pressed against Geralt’s shoulder with his hand, the other trailing through Geralt’s hair softly.

“You look so beautiful.” Dandelion said. “Handsome, strong, and yet you allow me to do this.”

Geralt whimpered, biting his lip as Dandelion moved, and then shifted. Geralt hummed low, as his prostate was brought back into the fray, and he pulsed more precum against his slowly moving hand.

“I love you, Geralt.” Dandelion said, his pace beginning to slowly increase. “I love you, with all my soul.”

“D-Dandelion….” Geralt’s voice was a rumbling growl, and he tightened against Dandelion’s cock, causing the bard to moan deliciously.

Then there was a sharp snap, and Geralt gasped. Dandelion was looking down on him wickedly, as he pulled out slowly. There was another snap, and this time it dragged along Geralt’s prostate, and he groaned.

“I am afraid… I can’t maintain the slow pace… you have driven me wild.” Dandelion hissed, and then leaned down over Geralt’s body. He locked his arms behind Geralt’s shoulders, and Geralt could at last breathe the scent of the bard. Dandelion’s hair hung over his shoulders, creating a veil for his eyes, and then he leaned down, leaning into Geralt’s chest, and began to move. The quick strokes were rolling, and Geralt could no longer move his hand against himself. Instead, he let go, and thrust with Dandelion’s movements against the bard’s’ stomach.

“Oh yes… Geralt… like that.” Geralt growled, which turned into a keen as the pace increased, and Geralt wrapped his hands around Dandelion’s hips, guiding the pace, and letting off soft noises as Dandelion lost himself into the feeling of Geralt.

He did this for a while, and Geralt was starting to edge closer, Then Dandelion keened, leaned up, and began to pound into him unmercifully. The change in depth and the brush against his prostate sent bolts of pleasure through every piece of his body, right to his toes.

“Touch me!” Dandelion demanded, and Geralt did. Dandelion hissed, as Geralt reached up with a hand that had been holding a hip, and stroked the bard’s face, and ran his hands down his neck. “Yessssss.”

Geralt gasped, and he slammed himself down onto Dandelion, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Ohhhhhhh!” Dandelion gasped. “Oh Geralt… I’m… I’m gonna… Ahhhhhh!”

His thrusts became erratic, and Geralt hissed through his teeth. The feeling of Dandelion spilling inside him, and the friction of the frenzied movements, tore another orgasm from Geralt, and he arched and trashed, as Dandelion thrust weakly into him. For a single moment, his mind was quiet, as pleasure flooded him, and the bard’s scent surrounded him. When he came back down, he was stroking Dandelion’s back, who had collapsed against him.

“That, Geralt, was well worth the wait.” He said, his face pressed into the crook of Geralt’s neck. “Though next time, when I am not so exhausted over everything, you will be taking me.”

“ ‘m tired.” Geralt drawled out, feeling drunk with pleasure, as the tightness in his chest finally began to ease, and his body began to relax.

Dandelion pulled out of him, and grunted, and grabbed his chemise, eyeing it. Then he softly cleaned Geralt off as best as he could, and then cleaned up himself. He tossed the shirt away, and collapsed beside Geralt, pulling the blanket with him.

“I love you, and now that I can say it, you will never hear the end of it.” Dandelion smiled softly, as Geralt lifted his arm and held him close.

“I love you too, Dandelion.” He sighed, and kissed the mop of curly blond hair on the bard’s head. “Rest now, nothing for miles. Got a long road to travel.”

“I will travel any road, as long as it is with you.” Dandelion sighed, his heart beginning to slow down. “To the edge of the world, and back again.”

Geralt smiled, and for the first time, in a very long time, he fell asleep, at peace with himself, and the world around him. The last thing he remembered was curling his fingers through the bard’s hair as he drifted off, and snuggled closer to him.

**Author's Note:**

> SO SOFT!!!!!!!!!
> 
> As always... love to hear from you guys!


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